Thinking About Death
by SebbySonOfThrain
Summary: Kenny explains a few things. short one shot that was stewing in my head for 3 days uwu TRIGGER WARNING; suicide. also rated T for suicide and some language. i do not own South Park or Kenny McCormick. i will write 68594 fics about Kenny and no one will stop me lmao also i'm putting this under tragedy bc idk what other genre to even put it under


No one can tell you what death is like, what it makes you relive, or how it feels. Because everyone knows that coming back from the dead is only possible in zombie movies or in nightmares.  
But I know that isn't true. I've died hundreds of times and I've come back hundreds of times. I know death like the back of my own hand but no one would believe me if I even tried to explain what it's like.

I just want someone to understand what dying is like.  
Being impaled sucks. Along with being shot, stabbed, decapitated, run over, eaten by rats.  
But the worst one I've experienced is suicide. The need to just want to get out and never come back.  
The things that cross your mind before doing it. Like your friends, your family, your favorite things, the smell of your favorite foods and the taste of your favorite drinks. The feel of your favorite person.  
The sound of their voice and the smell of their clothes. Their touch. Their laughter that brightens your whole day and the sparkle in their eyes that gives you hope. Thinking about all of that is what really hurts.  
Not the feeling of jagged pills going down your throat, or the feeling of a rope around your neck.  
The coldness of the barrel of a gun against your head or running into traffic. That stuff doesn't hurt when you're thinking about the people you might hurt when you're gone. But the thing is, I always come back and no one ever remembers. After everything I did to just get out.  
Shooting myself is the easiest and fastest way, but that doesn't mean I don't sit there for a long time and just think about everything.

I don't like thinking about the feeling of the bullet, though. I especially hate thinking about the coldness engulfing my whole body, wrapping around my bones and crushing them. The blood that pools around my head that goes from hot to freezing in 2.0 seconds. Everything goes by so fast, but at the same time it goes so slow, if that makes sense. 

I don't like thinking about the taste of multiple prescriptions that don't belong to me.  
Some small and some big, all equally hard to swallow. Not because of the size, but because I know overdosing is a horrible way to go. Mainly because someone could find your body and you could scar them for life. Actually, anyway you kill yourself, you'll most likely leave your body for someone to find. But seeing someone laying lifeless without a scratch on them is probably the worst.

But what I do like thinking about is that maybe one day, when I come back from the dead, someone will remember. Someone will come up to me, sobbing, and just wrap their arms around me and tell me something like "Never do that again!" or "You scared me!" And I'd just smile and tell them that I'm okay and explain to them about how I can come back from death. And they'd tell me to never scare them like that, or make me promise to not die again. Although I couldn't promise them anything because most of my deaths are completely random.

I don't kill myself just because I want to die, or because I want to feel the coldness of the deaths hands wrap around me and take me to hell, or to heaven. But because I just want someone to remember.  
When I come back, it's like I never even left. It's always "Hey, Kenny." And "You're late again." Never "Welcome back, we missed you." I just want someone to care and to know. Even if it's one person, I'd love the shit out of them because I want someone to worry. I know that sounds selfish but I want that.

I don't like thinking about death, I like thinking about someone knowing and not thinking I was crazy or something for saying I can't die. I'm not crazy. I don't wanna die and stay dead, I want to die and be missed. Not die and no one even fucking remember. It sucks but I guess it's something that I'll have to live with for the rest of my life. People will come and go, and I'll lose everyone I care about eventually. And I'll miss them as much as they should have missed me.


End file.
